


Doctor in the House

by cutiesonthehorizon



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5664775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiesonthehorizon/pseuds/cutiesonthehorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of fics set in the Jeanne era. Tony spent a lot of time with her, there's no way she wouldn't notice if he came home banged up from a hard day at work. Or just an excuse to whump Tony even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Headache

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Just a quick note to anyone who finds this familiar. The first chapter of this fic was already posted on ff.net under a different acount of mine. I thought it would be a one-shot, but then I wrote another story and it kind of fit into this universe, so I decided to repost here and add another chapter. Might be more coming, or not, I don't know. Each chapter is a finished fic, so I won't leave you on a cliffhanger (like in some other stories of mine, cough). I am trying to get back to writing as I have more time now, so we will see. If you'd like to see more stuff with Jeanne and Tony, send me prompts. Might take you up on them;) Okay, I'll stop ranting and let you read. Enjoy.

Headache

It started just like a small twinge behind his eyes, when he was getting out of bed. By midday the twinge had grown into a painful throbbing and Tony knew that if he won't lay down somewhere dark and quiet, before nightfall he would be fighting a full blown migraine. It was a pity that a dead marine decided to show up in some dumpster on the other end of the city. When Gibbs finished the phone call, Tony was already grabbing his jacket and heading after Ziva and McGee. He could only hope that the case won't require them staying after hours and that the Tylenol he took will ward off the worst of the headache until he'll get a chance to deal with it.

His hopes went unanswered though as the dead body came full with evidence. Too much evidence though so they had trouble discerning which of it was valid and which wasn't. There were also witnesses to interrogate, camera feeds to check and relatives with a grieving wife to console. It was much later when Tony managed to sit down behind the computer and close his eyes for a moment. Gibbs was off at the MTAC doing god only knew what, Ziva was down in the lab with Abby trying to make some sense from the evidence they found, and McGee was off on a coffee run. If heavens stood by Tony, he would forget to bring the takeout food he promised. The Tylenol had long ago ceased to work and the headache was now so bad that Tony had to fight off nausea. As soon as he saw the bullpen was empty, he popped two more pills, pulled out a pair of sunglasses and leaned his head down on the desk. Letting out a pained sigh, Tony closed his eyes.

Weirdly, it wasn't the noise that made him aware of his surroundings, but the smell. Someone was waving a carton of Chinese takeout right under his nose. Realizing what it was, Tony's eyes flew open and he startled out of his chair.

"Huh?" he mumbled dazedly, the sunglasses hanging from one of his ear stupidly. It took him a moment to focus on Ziva who was holding the carton of the won-ton soup, frowning down at him.

"You okay, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs who was just coming down from MTAC, an equal frown marring his face. Tony gulped and gave a short nod, which was probably a mistake; he realized when an extra painful spike rode through his brain. Grabbing the table for support as the world suddenly spun around him, Tony stood up and without another word dashed toward the toilet, leaving behind a rather flabbergasted team.

It was five minutes of toilet worshiping later when Tony emerged from the bathroom stall, only to half bump into Gibbs.

"Whoa," the marine grabbed him steadyingly when Tony staggered. "So, is there any logical reason why you didn't call in sick this morning, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked and Tony hid his flushing cheeks by turning on the tap and washing his face with cold water. He half hoped that Gibbs would be gone by the time he finished with the cleaning, but when he looked up he saw the marine in the mirror, waiting for an answer. Blushing, Tony turned around, leaning against the sink and rubbing at his temples, trying to push back the pain and focus.

"Uh, maybe because I wasn't sick this morning?"

Gibbs' only reply was a raised eyebrow and Tony swallowed.

"Sorry Boss. It was just a headache. All I need is few minutes for the pills to kick in."

"The same pills that probably ended up in the toilet, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked and Tony swore under his breath.

"Guess I haven't introduced you to rule number nine. Care to guess what it is?"

"Not to sleep with a co-worker?" Tony quipped, trying for a smile but managing only a grimace. Gibbs frowned and for a second looked like he was contemplating a head smack but thought better of it, for which Tony was grateful.

"No, DiNozzo. That's rule number twelve. Rule number nine is telling your superior officer when you're sick or injured, or otherwise incapable of performing your duties, such as watching your partner's back. Is that clear enough for you, DiNozzo?"

Tony winced as the raised voice cut through the tender tissues of his brain and looked sheepishly at Gibbs, realizing he really wasn't fit for watching someone's back right now. The guilt though didn't mix well with the already blossoming nausea, and Tony's cheeks turned a sickly pale green.

"Sorry, Boss. Won't happen again," he muttered, lost all the color he had left, then without warning turned and heaved into the sink. While he was trying hard not to cry as the dry-heaving worsened his already bad headache, he could hear swearing and after a moment felt a hand rub his back.

"You done, Tony?" Gibbs asked after a while and Tony wearily grunted, grateful when the tap was turned on again and the cold water washed down the mess. He washed his face and rinsed his mouth, then slowly straightened up and looked into the mirror.

"You look like shit," Gibbs said and echoed Tony's own thoughts. "Here, you left it in the office."

"Thanks," Tony took the offered sunglasses and gave Gibbs a small smile, while letting out a relieved sigh as soon as the dark glass blocked some of the light.

"Do you get migraines often DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked in a jovial tone and Tony frowned slightly.

"Migraines? No Boss, this is just a headache-" Tony started then paused and cringed when Gibbs reached to take off his sunglasses.

"Headache my ass," Gibbs growled, peering into his half closed eyes then finally returned the glasses. "I had three wives DiNozzo; I think I can recognize a migraine from a headache."

It was sign of how poorly Tony felt when he didn't came back with a fitting retort, though nobody could've faulted him for not wanting a head slap under these circumstances.

"So? How often?"

"Only once or twice in the last five years, Boss. I had them quite often as a kid but then it might've been just the surrounding," Tony quipped though he didn't elaborate at Gibbs' raised eyebrows. "Uhm, I've got one at the academy and few while working at Baltimore, but that's all, I swear."

Gibbs nodded, satisfied by the answer.

"Do you have something prescribed for it?"

"Nah, I had something as a kid but since then I'm kind of riding them out," Tony said giving a half shrug and a weary sigh. "Look boss, I'm really sorry. I know we have a case, but if you just let me sleep it off at Abby's lab for an hour or two, I'll be as good as new, promise."

"Oh yes, I'm sure a lab with strong headlights and loud music is the best place for you right now DiNozzo," Gibbs snorted and Tony swallowed as he realized his boss was right.

"Maybe my desk then? Or Ducky's office?" he relented finally and got a smile from Gibbs.

"Ducky's office is just the right place, DiNozzo. Then straight home." Gibbs raised a hand to halt any protest. "Whatever he'll give you will knock you on your ass. When you finish, McGee will take you home."

This time Tony did protest.

"Uh, thanks Boss, but I can grab a cab. You have plenty of work, no need to leave you two men down, right?" Tony gave a slight grin, hoping that Gibbs will let the whole issue drop. He knew there was no way he would get out without seeing Ducky, but if he had to leave work, there was a better place to stay than at his apartment where there was plenty of noise from the elevator being changed. And truth to say, he felt like he needed a little sympathy and who was better at sympathy than a lady doctor friend? Especially if it was Jeanne's day off.

Something on his face must've given up that he was thinking about a woman, because Gibbs got that understanding look in his eyes. The fact that he rolled his eyes and pushed Tony out of the lavatory and toward the elevator was pretty telling, and Tony didn't need to hear the grumbled 'I'm not giving you a day off so you can get laid, DiNozzo,' but Tony decided it was best to let it slide and go with the flow.

oooo

An hour later, after finally escaping Ducky's clutches with a suppository in his pocket that he was advised to 'apply at home, because it will knock you out pretty fast' which he of course deposited in the closest trash bin, he was standing before Jeanne's apartment door, head leaning against the door, hand poised in mid knock. Was this the right thing to do? To come here in a less than up notch state, when he could blow his cover? He should've gone straight home, or even taken a room at the motel for few hours, but he was so miserable that he simply needed some comfort. Moaning, Tony knocked on the door and instantly cringed as the sound hit him straight in the head.

For several moments there was no sound except the ringing in his head and Tony wondered if he didn't make a mistake, if Jeanne wasn't after all at the hospital. In that case he would probably just crash right there in the hall because he had absolutely no energy to call a cab and get back to his apartment. Biting his lower lip to stop himself from moaning, Tony repeated the knock, this time a little stronger. Finally, he heard shuffling steps and the lock being opened and only then did he realize he was still leaning against the opening door. Stumbling, he almost ended up in Jeanne's surprised arms.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly and tried for a smile. It looked like Jeanne herself was just woken up. Her hair was a little ruffled, and she had just a shirt on, which under other circumstances would send Tony into a right mood. "Didn't mean to wake you up," he added apologetically.

"I wasn't sleeping," she lied and pulled him inside, her eyes curious and worried. "What's wrong Tony? You look…"

"Like crap, yeah, I know," he said and with a sigh leaned against the hand that was feeling his forehead, checking for fever. "Feel like it too."

Jeanne's eyes narrowed and Tony could practically see her jumping into doctor mode, but right now he didn't care. He just wanted to lie down and maybe let someone else take care of him. So he didn't protest as she helped him out of his jacket and steered him to the couch. Luckily he was compos mentis enough to leave his gun and any other things belonging to Tony DiNozzo in his locker at work.

"What's wrong, Tony?" she asked even as her fingers were on his neck checking for swelling, then moving to his face as she peered into his eyes. Tony made an attempt at a smile but it came out more like a wince.

"´s just a headache," he said and blinked at the sudden loss of contact when Jeanne reached for his wrist and counted his pulse, humming to herself.

"Any nausea? Did you have an aura?"

"Yes and no," Tony replied wearily, having been asked the same questions earlier by Ducky.

"Feeling sick right now?" she asked sympathetically.

"Depends if the pain spikes or not. It's not like there's anything to bring up anyway, guess I got rid even of my Christmas meal."

"Right. I take it you didn't visit any doctor?"

"Naw," Tony leered with half closed eyes, "You know you're the only one who gets to check out my great ass." He winked at her and Jeanne laughed. Tony took a good look at her and realized that she too looked tired.

"Sorry, I totally forgot you had a night shift. I shouldn't keep you from your sleep," he said and started to stand when she pulled him back down on the couch and gave him a quick kiss.

"Nonsense. I have the day off and once I get you something for the pain we can get some sleep together. Now why don't you lay back and rest a minute?"

"Why, I knew there was a reason I came here," Tony drawled as Jeanne once again touched his cheek gently, then stood and headed for the bathroom where was her medicine cabinet. He rubbed at his eyes, wondering how he survived all the times he was sick without Jeanne. How he managed to survive the plague itself? Sure, his team was there with him all the way. Kate spent the first night in isolation with him despite the risk to herself and once he was in a normal room, there was someone from his team most of the time he was awake. He remembered seeing Gibbs only twice but Brad told him he was at the hospital every day checking up on him. Oh, and there was of course Abby who totally rivaled Jeanne's care, although in a pure sisterly way.

Letting out a sigh, Tony leaned back on the couch, closed his eyes and tried not to moan as the headache tightened its grip and sent another wave of nausea his way. He was so consumed with the pain that he didn't realize Jeanne was back until he felt a cold cloth pressed against his forehead.

"Mm, you're my best doctor ever," he mumbled with a tight grin.

"I'm your _only_ doctor," Jeanne laughed as she jabbed lightly into his ribcage. "Now come on, it's time we get to the bed."

"Oh darling you know I would love to make love with you but I've got the migraine from hell. Maybe it's just PMS."

"Excuses, excuses," she sighed mockingly and pulled Tony off the couch. He wavered for a second, eyes only half open, one hand keeping the cloth on his head the other clutching at Jeanne's arm steadyingly.

"You okay? Not gonna puke?" she asked worriedly and Tony only grunted as she led him to the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to unbutton his shirt but it was a hard task and he gave up. Jeanne took pity on him.

"Now the pants. Come on, the only way I can get them off without your help is with scissors."

It was a sign at how miserable Tony felt when the only comment he had was 'I'm up,' as he stood and shuffled out of his pants, letting them lay in heap on the floor. Jeanne frowned and pushed him back on the bed, peering into his eyes once again, and then her hands roamed through Tony's skull.

"What're you doing?" Tony asked, frowning.

"Just checking if you didn't hit your head, but I can't find any bumps."

"Told ya it's just a migraine," Tony said a little gruffly.

"No, you told me you had a headache. The symptoms you have could be also signs of a subdural hematoma, concussion, stroke-"

"Yeah, yeah," Tony halted her, "well it's just a migraine. I've used to get them as a kid but I grew out of it."

"When was the last time you got one this strong?"

"When Gi-" Tony stopped, realizing he almost said _'When Gibbs left to Mexico and I had a whole team of people who missed him to take care of'_. Startled by how easy it would be to slip up, Tony decided it was enough talking for the moment. "Sorry. Do you have some aspirin or something?" he asked distractedly.

Jeanne frowned at the change of subject but didn't push for which Tony was grateful.

"Here, take these," she pushed two capsules into his hand along with a cup of water. "The capsules work faster than pills, just try to keep them down," she advised and Tony took them, sipping the water carefully.

"Thanks," he said and with a sigh he laid back, trying to settle into a comfortable position while Jeanne brought back the cold cloth and then lay down next to him, one hand resting on his chest, the other lightly carting through his hair.

"Hmm, you're an angel, Jeanne Benoit," Tony muttered sleepily and the corner of his mouth turned up when he heard the light giggle coming from her.

"Shh," she hushed and nuzzled the hair on his chest. "I love you too, Tony. Now get some sleep."

"No protest from me," he mumbled. A little while later, when the drugs started to work and the pain lost some of its edge, Tony's breathing evened out as he fell into fitful sleep. Next to him, Jeanne Benoit watched her lover resting; the creases of pain still apparent on his face but much less pronounced than when he entered her apartment. Her eyes stopped on a small scar that was on his right arm. When she asked him, he told her it was just a scratch from a crate, but she'd already seen such scar and it came from a bullet. She loved Tony, but from the first moment she felt as if he was hiding something. Frowning, she gently traced the scar, and then with a sigh, she put her head down on the pillow and promptly fell asleep too.


	2. Bruises

Bruises

 

Looking into the mirror, Tony carefully touched the big bruise on his cheek, hissing when the skin protested. Luckily nothing was broken, though it sure felt like it when the pan connected with his head. Even now his ears were ringing. What was worse was the fact that the attack didn't come from the suspect but his pissed off wife, and Tony wasn't even the target, he was just in the way. Letting out a snort, Tony eyed his newly bandaged palm which was hiding a rather nasty cut from a kitchen knife.

"Right," Tony thought as he turned from the mirror, "never again apprehend a polygamist in the kitchen, especially if his second wife is present."

"Or if you do, be sure McGeek will be the one standing between them and not you, ya idiot," Tony's mind added with a scowl. He was heading for the bullpen when his 'other' cell phone beeped, signaling that he's got a message. Frowning, Tony stopped under the stairs leading to MTAC. His frown only deepened when he finished reading the message.

"Damn," he swore and went for his desk, ignoring the not so secret looks McGee was throwing his way, or the running commentary from Ziva as she was recounting the 'fight'. Gibbs was sitting behind his desk working on a report, sipping on his coffee and all in all looking as if there was nothing wrong with the world. With a grimace and a rather nasty look toward McGee, as if daring him to comment, Tony sat behind his desk and leaned over, thinking.

"How's the hand?" Gibbs asked and Tony looked up, trying very hard not to look like a kicked puppy.

"Six stitches," he said with disdain, glaring once again at McGee who was about to open his mouth but who quickly changed his mind and pretended to be working. Ziva though wasn't as easy to scare off.

"Maybe next time you'll let a _professional_ handle the situation."

"Right, thanks for the advice, Zeevah. Next time I'll call Dr. Phil for consultation." While usually Tony didn't let the bickering get to him, he wasn't in the mood right now. The message he received was from Jeanne and she wanted him to bring some wine to the dinner she was preparing. In all the excitement of the day Tony totally forgot that he had plans... plans which weren't exactly working with the bandaged hand and bruised face. He couldn't very well tell the good doctor that he was a victim of a crazy woman. Or maybe he could?

There was a plan brewing in Tony's mind but he needed a little more quiet to think.

„Uhm actually, I have a little headache from the blow to the head. Would you mind if I leave sooner, Boss? My report is almost finished anyway. "

Gibbs shot him a questioning look, taking in his appearance as if deciding whether to call an ambulance or a psych unit. Ziva and McGee also looked up, taken aback by the request.

„Are you fibbing to get on a date or do I need to call Ducky to check you out? " Gibbs finally asked and Tony let out a sigh, rolling his eyes.

„It's... no, I'm fine. It was a stupid idea. My head's okay, no need to disturb Ducky. "With a grimace that wasn't played, Tony sat down, trying hard not to pout. He'll have to think of some explanation in the car anyway, it wasn't a big deal. Though truth was, his head _did_ hurt some and his hand started throbbing too, the numbing injection he got for the stitches being absorbed. He would have to type his report one handed and he gave a silent groan in his head at the thought. It would take him so much longer to finish...

He just opened the document, trying to ignore the concerned glances from his colleagues or the fiery glare from Gibbs. Typing with one hand was a slow and grueling process, and Tony let his annoyance bleed through by harder, quicker strikes on the keyboard. Five minutes later, he was pretty sure that McGee was glaring daggers at him, because of the assumed damage to the keyboard, while Ziva was probably gritting her teeth over the irregular clicking. After his head gave a painful throb, Tony let his finger fall on the keyboard with more force than he planned, causing the keyboard to jump on the table a little. His instincts caused his other bandaged hand to react, which resulted in a painful bump into the said keyboard and several curse worse flying from Tony's mouth.

There was a sudden silence, and Tony was dismayed to see Gibbs standing over his desk, with a frown on his face, one hand still holding his coffee.

"Sorry, boss," Tony apologized, rubbing at his sore hand.

"I think it's time you went home, DiNozzo. Not sure if I want to read a report the writing of which results in bloodshed. Get your ass home, it can wait till tomorrow."

At first, Tony wanted to protest, but then he thought about Jeanne and didn't feel the energy for it, so all he said was: "You sure, boss?"

This of course earned him that typical raised eyebrow that made him scurry for his stuff, before Gibbs could change his mind.

"Thanks boss," he said and was already halfway to the elevator, when he turned and smiled at the surprised McGee and half glaring Ziva.

"Enjoy your afternoon, kids, and don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said and as he stepped into the elevator, he mouthed a silent "suckers" and gave them a little wave, just as the elevator door closed. That shall teach them to laugh at his plight.

So, mission number one was achieved – he managed to get out of work earlier than he thought. This gave him some time to buy the wine and to think something up about the bruises and the stitches. What could he tell Jeanne? She already thought him some kind of a trouble magnet, when he bruised his knuckles on a marine's face. That time, Tony told her he got into a fight with some drunken film buff from the university who didn't agree with his opinion on the great casting for the classic that was the Godfather. She tsked and shook her head, blowing a light kiss on his knuckles and teasing him the rest of the night about it. Should he tell her this was a re-match? Nah, she wouldn't buy that. Also, the cut on his hand was obviously from a knife. He could say he was just trying to make a salad, but that wouldn't explain the bruise on his face. Tony groaned, ignoring the sympathetic glances he got from an older lady at the counter, while he was buying the wine. His time was almost up, and he didn't come up with anything decent, which was a clear sign that the pan knocked some sense out of his head. Great.

Half an hour later, Tony found himself standing before the door to Jeanne's apartment, a bottle of wine in one hand, and a pair of red roses in the other. After several deep breaths, he knocked on the door, already prepared with a speech. Of course when Jeanne opened the door, he instantly forgot what he wanted to say.

"You look beautiful," he said as his eyes took in her dress and he smelled her perfume.

"Thanks. And you look…" she wanted to compliment him too, but Tony just turned his head a little and she saw the looming bruise on his cheek, and her smile turned into a concerned frown. "You look like you went boxing with Ali."

"Don't tell me my ear is missing," Tony exclaimed and reached for his ear jokingly, which of course showed his bandaged hand and got a suspicious look from Jeanne.

"Just what _did_ you do, Tony?" She took the wine and the flowers from him, then pulled him inside and ushered him towards the couch. Tony chuckled nervously, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Would you believe me, if I told you this is a work of a woman that found out her husband is a polygamist and tried to get him with any possible kitchen apparel?"

"It depends. Are _you_ the polygamist?"

" _Moi_? Never. I am a monogamist, for whom only one star shines," Tony said with twinkling eyes, even as Jeanne took his face gently into her hands and examined the bruise.

"Uh huh. Just how many times did you hit your head?" she asked, unconvinced.

"I didn't hit my head. Someone else did that, with a frying pan, like in the cartoons. It would have been really funny, if it didn't hurt so much."

Jeanne frowned and pulled back from Tony.

"Are you seriously trying to tell me you were hit by a frying pan by some women who thought you were a polygamist?"

"No, no, you got it wrong. She thought her _husband_ was a polygamist. Which he probably is, I really didn't stick around long enough to find out."

"How do you figure into all this?" Jeanne asked, eyeing the bandage on Tony's hand with raising suspicion.

Tony swallowed and gave a sheepish shrug.

"Few weeks ago I met a guy; he's a new professor at the university. We kind of hit it off sport wise and started hanging out a few times. So he took me home to lunch today, wanting to show me a signed dress from Archie Griffin, which you know, I couldn't let that pass up. He introduced me to his wife and she was just preparing the food, when the phone rang. Three minutes later, I hear screaming and she was rushing at Dave, that's the guy, with a knife in one hand and a frying pan in the other. She first hit him with the pan and when I wanted to help, she got me in the face too. After that she started waving around that knife and screaming about Dave's other wife calling him and stuff… Dave isn't much of a fighter, he's a pretty scrawny guy actually, and I was getting scared that she would take him out with that knife, so I kind of grabbed her arm and she managed to nick me."

Jeanne was looking at Tony with wide eyes full of disbelief and awe.

"Are you out of your mind? You tried to disarm someone with a knife?!"

"In all fairness, it wasn't a big knife, and as soon as she saw the blood, she let go of it and kind of just collapsed sobbing and apologizing," Tony said, although that last part wasn't really true. In fact, the angry wife would've kept trying to kill her husband, if it wasn't for Ziva's gun pointing at her face. Only after that did she let go of the knife and started sobbing, but that wasn't something Tony wanted to tell Jeanne. Hell, he wouldn't have told her even this, but there weren't many better lies he came up with during his drive there and he always thought keeping it close to the truth was the safest bet. He just hoped that his bad luck with suspects would end there, at least for the foreseeable future. He couldn't imagine trying to explain any other wounds… especially not one from being shot. Nope, not happening any time soon.

"It still sounds a little crazy to me," Jeanne told him, even as she was pressing a cold compress against Tony's cheek and brushing a strain of hair from his forehead. "Did the police arrest her for trying to kill you?"

"She wasn't trying to kill me, and truth be told, after she started sobbing and Dave was all apologetic, I kind of get lost."

"Do you think it was wise? I mean, she could try to hurt him again, or hurt herself. Shouldn't she be at least checked out by a psychiatrist?"

"I spoke to Dave later, once my hand got stitched up. He called her sister, and she would take care of her for the time being. Dave said he needed to handle the situation with the "other wife", and then put his life back together. Looks like he had a missus on the side, but broke up with her two days ago, which she didn't handle very well."

"I wonder why," Jeanne rolled her eyes, then with a sigh settled down next to Tony, leaning her head against his shoulder, even as she was gently picking at the corner of the bandage on his hand. "You know Tony, the heroes in the movies tend to get injured or die, when they try to be heroes."

"They also always get the right woman," Tony whispered into her hair.

"Don't be a hero, Tony. Leave it to people who are paid for it. Your job is to teach, not to become a vigilante."

Tony took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, her words feeling like a cold knife searing through him. Because that what he was trying to be, that was his job, but somehow, during the hours spent with this woman, he always managed to convince himself that he was just a professor. That this dream he was living right now could last forever, even though it was just that, a dream. And Tony was silently wondering, when he will wake up and feel the new bruise on his heart.


End file.
